


Rather Be Happy Than Right

by Paul A (pedanther)



Category: Doctor Who (1963), Magnus & Varne
Genre: Dark Comedy, Fanwork of Fanwork, Gen, It's All Original Characters, No Actual Elements From Canon, Not All Of Them Are My Own Original Characters, POV Third Person, Past Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-10-21
Updated: 2003-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-19 07:18:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4737578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pedanther/pseuds/Paul%20A
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Magnus and Varne infiltrate the lair of a criminal mastermind, things don't go entirely according to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rather Be Happy Than Right

**Author's Note:**

> [First published on alt.drwho.creative. Archived 2015-09-06.]
> 
> Magnus and Varne are OCs created by Ken Young who appeared in a number of stories on alt.drwho.creative back the day. ("Back in the day" in this case means approximately 2000-2005.) They are a pair of mercenary adventurers with a complicated and fascinating backstory (which is not, however, necessary to understanding this story, beyond noting that Varne is a shapeshifter).
> 
> The rest of the characters in this story are of my own invention.
> 
> As a fanfic of Doctor Who fanfic, this is Doctor Who fanfic by the transitive property, but it's worth noting that it contains no actual Doctor Who elements apart from generic staples like ray guns and criminal masterminds.

"My architect assured me that the design of this office incorporated defensive features that would make it completely impenetrable if I initiated a lockdown," Crayden commented. "And you penetrated it in only forty minutes."

Magnus looked down at the chronometer on Crayden's desk. Crayden's last remaining bodyguard mistook this for a moment of distraction, and died. "Thirty-seven minutes, if this is synchronised with the one in the lobby," Magnus said. "You should fire your architect."

"Oh, I fired him as soon as he'd finished the building," Crayden said. "As I recall, the arson squad determined that he'd left a burning cigarette too close to a bottle of whiskey, or some such thing."

Magnus nodded, and glanced around the room. "Do you have any more surprises for me? More cunningly-concealed autoguns? Spike traps? Secret compartments full of ninja assassins?"

"No," Crayden admitted, feeling oddly calm now that all his options were gone. "That's the lot. Are you going to kill me now?"

Magnus shrugged noncommittally. "I want some answers," he said. "If you answer truly, I will let you live."

Crayden laughed. "I judge you to be the kind of man whose 'If you answer truly, I will let you live' is only the first part of a sentence that continues 'after breaking every bone in your body or performing some other painful but nonlethal act that will make you wish with every breath you take that you had chosen death'."

Magnus shrugged again.

"Make me a better offer," Crayden said.

Magnus considered. "I want some answers," he said after a moment. "If I like the answers you give me, you will die quickly and painlessly. If I don't like them, I will let you live - after, of course, breaking every bone in your body or performing some other painful but nonlethal act that will make you wish with every breath you take that you had chosen death."

Crayden mentally ran through his options again, and found them unchanged. "Very well," he said. "Where shall we begin?"

* * *

Varne sat in the receptionist's swivel chair, her feet comfortably up on the pile of unconscious security guards, and wondered how Magnus was doing with Crayden. Normally she'd be in there with him, of course, but they'd only been able to sneak one person through the security grid, and Magnus had insisted on it being him. She hoped he'd be finished soon; the ringing of the vidphone was beginning to get on her nerves.

Time passed. Nothing happened except that the vidphone kept ringing. Varne sighed, checked that the bodies and the bloodstains were out of the 'phone's field of vision, shifted herself a jacket and hairdo to match the receptionist sprawled near the potted aspidistra, and hit the ANSWER button.

"Dastagh & Crayden Agricultural Export Services," she said chirpily. "Can I help you?"

"...No, I'm afraid Mr Crayden is in a very important meeting. Do you wish to leave a message?"

* * *

"That's everything, I believe," Magnus said. "Thank you for your co-operation." He reached for his neuristor pistol.

"A moment, please," Crayden said. "For the sake of professional curiosity: what exactly _would_ you have done to me if I had allowed you to 'let me live'?"

"Believe me when I tell you that you do not want to know," Magnus said sincerely, and raised the pistol.

Crayden had seen enough false sincerity in his long and mostly illegal career to unfailingly recognise genuine sincerity when he encountered it. He shuddered.

* * *

Varne jumped to her feet as the door to Crayden's office swung open and Magnus stepped out, recently-discharged neuristor pistol in hand. She slipped past him into the office and looked around, frowning when she spotted Crayden lying among his bodyguards.

"If he didn't talk, what took you so long? I've been dying of boredom out here, Lord."

"You must have been," said Magnus, eyeing her hair with amusement. "And don't call me 'Lord'. As it happens, he was quite helpful."

Varne's frown deepened. "You said you were planning to let Crayden go unharmed if he co-operated." She'd objected, feeling that the potential advantage of a co-operative Crayden who owed them his life was outweighed by the danger of a Crayden with a grudge; it was one of the reasons Magnus had insisted on talking to the man alone.

"So I did, and so I was," Magnus said. He grinned wolfishly. "You'll be happy to hear that he talked me out of it."


End file.
